Close Shave

"If my intuition is right, Fred was telling you about Wendy and Gerry."

"He mentioned that Wendy was your sister in law," I said. The odd thing was that I didn't feel like I was being pressured. Both Fred and Shirley seemed simply open and honest. I sort of figured it was a little early in the friendship to be telling the kind of tales they were, but maybe that kind of openness goes along with nudity.

"I figured," she laughed. "He always loved it when she went down on him." I thought it was time for me to declare a position before things went any farther. She looked into my eyes for a long moment and then added, "So I guess you realize my brother and I used to have sex."

"As far as it goes, Shirley, I don't care what you and Fred do or don't do. I've always tried not to judge people. As for me, I have never been the kind of guy who enjoys one night stands." I quickly added, "Oh, I've had a couple, but they proved distinctly unsatisfying. They taught me that there has to be something more than just sex for me. I don't have to be in love with the woman, but I have to care about her as a person and not just what she has between her legs."

Shirley sipped her wine and watched me over the rim of her glass. Then she gave a little nod. "I like that. You put it very well." About then Fred came into the kitchen with the tray. The smell of grilled beef filled the air, thanks to the fan. My mouth watered.

We adults ate sitting at the bar and the kids sat on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. The TV was tuned to Nickelodeon. The steaks and salad were delicious.

I drank two glasses of Merlot with my dinner. After the four beers I was not staggering drunk, but I was definitely feeling lightheaded. I asked Shirley for a glass of ice water after dinner. She put a twist of lime in it for me.

The kids were hustled off to the tub and Fred scanned the channels to get the day's sports news. When Shirley returned she suggested turning off the tube and playing some pool.

Now, pool is the one sport I love. A lot of people don't consider it a sport, but I do. I'm not an expert, since I've never had the convenience of owning a table. Nevertheless, I've played enough to be pretty good. I seem to be an 'on again, off again' shooter. I mean, some nights I just can't seem to miss. Other nights I can't seem to sink a single ball. Usually, though, my game falls somewhere between those two extremes.

I had been itching to shoot a game all day, ever since I walked into the room and saw the table. As a centerpiece for a family room, you can't beat a pool table. With a light hanging over it the absolute glow of that green felt is beautiful. Fred and Shirley had spent some bucks on their table. It was a Brunswick with those braided leather pockets. I was impressed when Shirley racked the balls using one of those spring-loaded racks I've seen on television.

"You guys play first," she said. "I want to see how good Allan is before we start betting." There were those dimples again. Suddenly I wondered what it would be like to lick them. 'Whoa, boy!' I cautioned myself. I gulped another mouthful of ice water. I wondered if it would be a breach of etiquette to ask to use the guest room for the night. I realized I was in no shape to drive home. Maybe, I thought, if I played some pool and stuck to water I would be okay.

Fred and I played a couple of games of Eight Ball. There was no more mention of betting at first. I was glad since I didn't have money to waste at pool. My game was okay. I was pretty firmly in the center of my curve. I made as many as I missed. Fred won the first game and I won the second. Shirley cheered us both on.

She left the room for a few minutes and returned just as Fred was starting to rack the balls again, Shirley said, "Why don't you switch to Nine Ball?" Fred looked at me and I shrugged. I like both games. "The kids are tucked into bed," she announced. It seemed an odd thing to say just then.

Fred switched to the spring loaded Nine Ball rack. I just shook my head. Those things cost a couple hundred bucks apiece. Since I had won the previous game I broke. Nothing dropped. Fred made the 1, the 6 off the 2, and then scratched. I positioned the cue ball and shot. I made four balls before the 9 dropped as a gift off my missed shot on the 7.

"My turn," Shirley announced, coming off the stool and pulling the balls out and rolling them toward the spot. I sat at the bar and sipped my water.

"Just as well," Fred said. I thought he sounded a little bit disgusted with his game. He went behind the bar. I didn't pay any attention to what he was doing because I enjoyed watching Shirley moving around the table, bringing the balls out. She had a grace about her and the light reflecting off the table gave her skin a richer tint. Her breasts flowed with her movements, as did her hips. Once again I had to control my thoughts. My cock was threatening to pop up again.

That was when Fred slid a shot glass in front of me. I looked at the clear liquor in it. A bottle of Herradura tequila was nearby. There were two identical shots on the bar as well. A salt shaker and a bar napkin with three slices of lime rested between mine and the other two. I groaned.

Shirley sashayed (I swear, she did!) up next to me. She flashed her dimples at me and picked up the salt. She kept looking at me as she licked the back of her hand, added salt and sucked it off. She tossed back the shot and sucked one of the lime slices.

Fred walked out from behind the bar. Standing on Shirley's other side, he looked at her. She smiled wryly and nodded. He cupped her breast. Leaning down he licked the nipple. He salted it and sucked it all off with a slurping noise. He did his shot and, reaching over, he cupped her other breast in offering. Well, those dimples were daring me. 'No pressure, indeed,' I thought. What could I do? I imitated Fred.

Shirley's nipple was a rock hard berry sized nub in my mouth. And that was before the salt. I salted her well, licked and sucked it off. I made sure I'd gotten all the salt. I tossed the tequila down my throat. I love that expensive stuff, but I don't get it very often. The lime was perfect. My cock waved in the air unashamed. Shirley grabbed it and pulled me to my feet. "Your break," she announced, releasing her hold on my erection once I was standing.

I broke and watched as three balls went into scattered pockets. I made the 1 and missed on the 2. Shirley made the 2 and got lucky, putting the 9 in on her second shot. She hammed, blowing on the tip of her cue, as if it was a smoking gun.

I racked them and offered my cue to Fred. He declined, opting instead for another shot of tequila. I saw two more waiting for Shirley and me. We played again. After following her break by making the 2 and 3 balls, Shirley scratched.

I ran the table, feeling like a naked Willie Mosconi. I winked at Shirley who put on a comic pout. She gave her tits a little more of a shaking as she racked the balls again. Before I broke, she insisted we go to the bar for our shots. "I'm thinking it'll be to my advantage -- one way or another," she said.

Fred and I again used her nipples as our salt licks. In her turn, Shirley surprised me by using one of my nipples (plucking a hair from her lips afterward). It sent a thrill through me as she pressed my back against the bar and lowered her mouth to suck it. Her hairless crotch was pressed much harder than necessary to my knee as she leaned in. It all did nothing to lessen my erection, which had been bobbing around since that first shot.

While I chalked my cue, Shirley said, "Let's make this interesting."

"I think it has already been almost more interesting than I can stand," I protested.

"Well, let's bet anyway," she laughed.

"I don't have a lot of cash," I said. She just laughed.

"I was thinking about a back rub," she said.

"Well, I can do that," I said, feeling somewhat relieved. I had a feeling she was hustling me. I broke and Shirley ended up winning that game. Fred again declined his turn so I racked them for Shirley.

"What's the bet this time?" I asked. Shirley walked around the table chalking her stick.

When she was standing so close in front of me that her nipples were pressed into my chest she looked up at me and said, "If you win I'll give you a blow job. If I win, I get to shave you from neck to toe -- except your arms, of course."

There was a booming in my head. I realized it was my own heartbeat. I swallowed hard. Before I could reply, Fred's voice came from behind the bar.

"Drink this before you answer that, Allan," he said. I didn't need to look to know there were three more shots of tequila lined up. If she could play this game, so could I, I decided. Fred again used her nipple for his salt. That time Shirley used the side of my neck -- which, if you're interested, sent a bigger shiver through me than when she had used my nipple.

Then it was my turn. I took one of Shirley's wrists in my hand and raised her arm over her head. I flattened my tongue against the hot surface of her underarm. I think the fact that I didn't need the salt shaker was more erotic than just the idea of licking her armpit. I tossed the shot back. Shirley's eyes were giving off heat waves as she lowered her arm. I had surprised her. Fred was grinning.

I returned to the table, feeling pretty cocky (no pun intended!). I chalked my cue and lined the cue ball up. The familiar crack sounded out and I watched in dismay as the cue ball sailed over the rail and bounced noisily under the couch. Fred played ball boy and retrieved it for us.

Shirley took her turn and made five straight shots. My skin was starting to pucker as I imagined what it would feel like on Monday morning when I put on my dress clothes for the office over a hairless body. My erection gave me a break by softening. I had other things to think about.

On my turn I did well. I made all my shots until all that was left was the 9 ball. I grinned at Shirley as I lined up my cue. It was a fairly simple bank shot into the side pocket. I stroked the cue back and forth. Before I shot I looked back up at Shirley. She grinned and flashed her dimples. Then she licked her lips! I shot and scratched!

Well, Nine Ball is a game that allows for 'ball in hand' after a foul. In other words, you aren't limited to shooting from 'in the kitchen', or behind the original break line. Scratching on the 9 ball is like surrendering. Shirley accepted my resignation.

"Woohoo!" Shirley's crowing rattled the glass doors. She shook her fists in the air, bobbling her tits attractively. She cackled at me and hammed, "Whatever you do, B'rer Fox, don't...throw...me...in the briar patch!" I guess I knew all along it was a 'win/win' bet for her. I had never in my life shaved south of my neck but I found the prospect of having her shave me all over strangely erotic. So I guess it was win/win all around.

Shirley checked on the kids while Fred led me back to the master bathroom. Telling me that there was a sunken Jacuzzi there was only a part of the story. It was larger than my old living room at the apartment back in Minnesota. The walls were all mirrored, mostly veined with gold. There was also another sliding door leading to the back yard.

The master bath was really two rooms. The first held the toilet, the vanity and another appliance. Fred explained it was a bidet. I'd suspected it was, but I'd never seen one in person. The second room was all tiled: floors, walls, ceiling and tub. One end had a shower. At the other end was the tub, inset below the floor and surrounded by moisture-loving plants. It was like some kind of a clearing in a jungle with the convenience of tile.

Fred started the shower. It was like no shower head I'd ever seen. It was about a foot in diameter. When he turned on the water, it showered down in a fine spray, almost a mist. "There's the other shower head," he said, indicating a massager like I had seen before. "This one is especially good for hot days, though." With that, he stepped under the misting spray. I watched for a few seconds as he twisted and turned, getting his body well moistened. When he beckoned, I didn't hesitate to step in next to him.

It had been some years since I had showered with other guys. After college I had bought a membership at a gym for a year or so. Since then, though, my showers had been strictly solo or heterosexual. Of course, Fred didn't do anything to make me think he had any intentions of changing this, but it was strange after all that time to be naked in a shower with a man -- especially when we were sharing a shower head, and especially when we were drunk. Fred had at least doubled the tequila intake I had, plus as Shirley had said, he'd been drinking since noon. A couple of times I had to grab his arm when he stumbled.

Shirley didn't take long to join us. When she stepped in and turned on the faucet in the tub I flinched, expecting the shower to change temperature -- either freezing me or scalding me. There was no change. Fred just smiled and said, "We paid extra to have two separate services installed. It's just the same as if the neighbor turned on the washing machine." He picked a towel from a hook on the wall and went into the outer room.

After adjusting the temperature in the tub, Shirley joined me under the shower. "Are you ready to experience complete nudity?" she asked me.

"I guess I am," I replied. "I never back out of a bet." She stood up on her toes and kissed my cheek again.

As the tub filled she devoted her efforts to washing me well. When she knelt at my feet and spent several minutes stroking my aching erection I looked out at Fred. He was as fascinated as Shirley was and didn't pay any attention to me apart from what his wife was doing to me. For his part, he was moving his hand in time with his wife's, but on his own cock.

About the time the tub was filled, Shirley's hand had coaxed an orgasm from me. She directed my load at the wall where the spray washed it all down the drain. She got to her feet, kissed me again, and pulled me toward the steps leading to the tub. Fred gave me a "thumbs up" and disappeared from sight.

The two of us reclined in the somewhat warmer water and she turned on the jets. The bubbles washed around me and I leaned my head against the tiled edge, closing my eyes. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so relaxed while being so turned on and keyed up at the same time.

Fred came back in with bottles of water for us all. He climbed into the tub across from us. There was room for at least another person, if not two or three. I couldn't imagine their water bill.

Shirley reached for a pile of towels that she had set next to the tub. Spreading one of them she patted it and told me to jump up there. She stayed in the tub. The water came to her knees. As she began to work on me she moved between my knees.

When I was arranged to her satisfaction, she picked up a regular pair of barber scissors. She used them to trim me from collar bone to my lower belly. I've never had a lot of hair on my legs so she didn't bother with the trim. Then she trimmed around my cock and balls. The sight of a sharp instrument so close to my tender parts didn't have any effect on my throbbing hard on, but my balls retracted in terror. Nevertheless Shirley was careful.

When she got out the baby oil I was surprised. I use shaving cream or gel on my face. When her warm hands began spreading it on my chest she pushed her belly against my dick. Her dimples were close enough to lick, but I still refrained.

She rinsed the razor in the hot water and began stroking it down over my pectorals. She was very careful around my nipples and they stood up in appreciation. She finished my upper chest and then poured more oil in her hand. When she lifted my left arm and slapped the oil into my arm pit I was surprised. I hadn't thought she meant to shave my pits but she raised an eyebrow when I made an objection.

"If you recall the terms of the bet I won the right to shave you from 'neck to toe'. Count yourself lucky you will get to keep the hair on your head and arms," she said. I decided not to argue the issue in case she changed her mind.

When she had done my pits and chest she turned me to face the edge of the tub. "Lean over. I need to do your back and ass." It was disconcerting to feel a razor scraping the hair off my butt, especially when she pried my cheeks apart.

Seated on the towel again, I watched her shave my legs. I couldn't stop stroking my smooth chest as she worked. There was something definitely erotic about the whole process -- and she hadn't even started on my pubic hair yet.

That came next. She smiled, but otherwise treated me much the way the barber does when he cuts my hair. For me it was an intense pleasure to feel her hand pushing my erection from side to side so she could make me hairless. The part that worried me the most was when she told me to lie back and spread my legs so she could shave between my balls and my ass hole. She didn't have to press her thumb against my anus but it felt great when she did. It served to distract me from the blade.

"Okay, I think you're done," she said. She had me stand under the shower again as she ran her hands all over to make sure she hadn't left any stubble. My reflection looking back at me from the mirrored wall was strange. The dark curls that normally covered me were gone. My nipples stood out, as did my cock. It looked bigger than I'd ever seen it.

Throughout the process Fred had reclined against the side of the tub with his eyes closed most of the time. He may even have dozed off at times. In any case when Shirley pulled me out of the tub and turned the shower on again he roused himself.

"I'm beat, Hon," he said to his wife. "I'm going to bed. Show Allan where the guest room is." He kissed her and grabbed a towel on his way out. Shirley picked up the soap with another smile.

Fred's absence removed the last vestiges of her reserve. She made no effort to hide the pleasure it gave her to wash me again. After rinsing me she patted me dry. She took my hand and led me back to the room where I'd left my clothes.

"I thought about asking you guys if I could stay the night earlier. That was before all the tequila, too." She chuckled and turned the sheets down.

"It's no problem. I certainly won't have you driving home in your condition." She glanced at my seemingly perpetual erection when she said it, but I think she was talking about how much I'd had to drink. I collapsed into bed. She crossed her arms under her generous bosom and looked down at me. The only light came from outside the room so it was rather dim.

She leaned down and kissed me lightly on the lips, her hand caressing my cock. "I know I won the bet, but would you like me to take care of this for you anyway?"

"I can only think of one other thing I'd rather have than your lips around my cock," I told her. She laughed as she got to her knees between my legs. Her mouth was wonderfully wet and warm as she sucked on me.

I'd been so hard for so long (even after the hand job she'd given me) it only took a couple of minutes before I erupted into her mouth. When it was over she slid up on top of me and kissed me again. Her ass filled my hands as her tongue slipped between my lips. "Thank you," I told her when she lifted her head.

"Thank you, too, Allan. I didn't realize how much I had missed the feeling of another man's hands on my body. I love my husband but sometimes a girl just needs more, you know? I'm lucky that Fred understands me." She let her legs straddle me and she sat up, my worn out cock aligned with her slit. The lack of hair definitely made a difference in the feeling.

She took a nipple in each hand and pinched them. "Maybe Marie won't find you so 'yucky' in the morning," she said. She rocked her hips a couple of times before she dismounted. With another flash of dimples she left me. I ran my hands over my denuded body. I thought I could get to like the feeling.